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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666677">in northern gray, in drizzling rain</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbaskerville/pseuds/queenbaskerville'>queenbaskerville</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Jessica Moore's Father, Jessica Moore's Parents - Freeform, Missing Scene, One Shot, POV Outsider, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Post-Season/Series 07, Sam Winchester-centric, Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:55:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27666677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenbaskerville/pseuds/queenbaskerville</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The boy Jess trusted enough to bring home for the holidays, trusted enough to move in with, trusted enough to love wholeheartedly—now a man and a murderer, the one who burned her to death—stood in aisle two, comparing the nutrition labels on tomato sauce.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>138</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in northern gray, in drizzling rain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>trigger warning for speculation about domestic abuse (none actually happened)</p><p>i couldn't find canon names for jess's parents so i decided to call them rick and monica</p><p>fic title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyglfKHlERQ">"a quiet life" by teho teardo</a></p><p>this scene would've taken place after dean and cas died at sucrocorp but before sam met amelia</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rick was frozen, paralyzed, in the middle of the grocery store, and he blinked his eyes, wondering if the midnight hour had made him too tired to see straight. Just ahead of him was a man who hadn't yet noticed that Rick was there. The boy Jess trusted enough to bring home for the holidays, trusted enough to move in with, trusted enough to love wholeheartedly—now a man and a murderer, the one who burned her to death—stood in aisle two, comparing the nutrition labels on tomato sauce.</p><p></p><div>
  <p>With his hair so long now, Rick might not have recognized him if not for the news this year. He'd seen the footage of the brothers on their mass shooting spree, watched the news with nausea, called his ex-wife and asked if she had seen the news. Rick had wished, not for the first time, that he and Monica hadn't split up after their daughter's death, so he could hold her, so he could be strong for her. But there was no one left to be strong for. Rick had thought of his daughter looking with love in her eyes at the man who was on Rick's TV murdering people, and he'd started trembling, couldn't get his hands to stop shaking for several hours.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick's hands tightened now on his shopping cart. He had a vivid fantasy of running Sam down with it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wondered if Sam was armed.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You," Rick finally said, because he couldn't stomach his name. Poison in his mouth. <em>Sam Winchester.</em></p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam looked up at the sound and then stared at Rick with complete shock. There was a sick, bitter victory in knowing that Rick had come across him when he clearly had never expected to see Rick again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Mr. Moore," Sam said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He almost stuttered over it, and that just infuriated Rick—why keep up the pretense of politeness? Rick hated him, the memory of the shy boy who'd said<em> Mr.</em> and <em>Mrs.</em> and still persisted with <em>sir</em> and <em>ma'am</em> even after Monica said,<em> Oh, just call us by our first names, hon</em>. What good was politeness? He'd killed their daughter anyway.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What're you doing in town?" Sam asked. Polite, again. Trying to be conversational but feeling awkward. "Are you visiting someone? Or did you move from California?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"That's all you have to say?" Rick said. "You killed—" again, a name won't let itself escape his lips, but this time from grief. "You <em>killed</em> my <em>daughter</em>. And that's what you have to say to me?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Pain flooded Sam's face. Pain and grief. So heavy that Rick could swear Sam looked like he might stagger. And Rick hated it. Another layer to the lie. Sam had proven again and again that he could act like the best of them—he'd pretended ot be polite and sweet and romantic, and he'd pretended to grieve at Jess's funeral when the fire was believed to be accidental, and here he was pretending to grieve again. Whatever love he claimed to feel for Jess was either a lie or something false, a sense of ownership, the loss of a possession. Over the years, Rick wracked his memories for any sign that his daughter had been being abused and couldn't come to a conclusive answer. Why did Sam decide that night that he was going to kill her? Was it influenced by his brother coming to visit? Had Sam been planning it? Had he snapped? What, in his eyes, had Jess done that finally crossed the line? Rick never stopped thinking about it. Was she going to leave him?</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam looked anguished.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I didn't kill her."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>The disbelief must've shown on Rick's face, because Sam's jaw tightened, and he said, "But it was my fault. I wasn't there to protect her. She died because—because of me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick felt something in him grind to a halt.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Explain," he said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's complicated," Sam said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam put the two jars of tomato sauce—he'd been holding them this entire time—back on the shelf. Rick became aware again of the grocery store around them and the possibility of being overheard. He'd wanted more than anything for Sam to be exposed a moment ago, but now he needed time to hear this.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Not here," Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Where?" Sam said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He found himself leading Sam to his car where they could talk in private. Rick's cart half-full of groceries and Sam's near-empty hand-basket were abandoned in the aisle. Sam followed him through the dark parking lot, soldiering through the rain without opening an umbrella, and Rick had a moment to realize this might've been a terrible idea. This man was incredibly dangerous. Rick unlocked the car anyway. It was worth the risk to find out what happened, if there was a possibility that Sam was telling the truth. Jess was worth dying for.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam folded himself into the passenger seat—it was easy to forget how tall he was, this unreasonable giant of a man, when he always seemed like he was trying to be invisible, trying to make himself look smaller. He reached for his seat belt, but he rested his hands in his lap when it was clear that Rick wasn't going to start the car. The rain beat down on the metal roof, on the glass windshield.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Explain," Rick said again.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Did Jess ever tell you," Sam said, "what happened to my mother?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>At first it had just been, <em>Don't ask him about his family</em>, and then later in their relationship, when Jess was more sure she wanted Sam to be part of her life, she said a little more.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"She said your mother was murdered," Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Yeah," Sam said. "And he burned our house down."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"What are you saying," Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"The killer came back," Sam said, "and I got there right before our apartment caught fire. It's my fault. I wasn't there to protect her."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick sat with that.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You knew who it was?" he said. "Why didn't you tell the police?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"They didn't believe my dad back then," Sam said. "They wouldn't have believed me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why not?" Rick demanded.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I don't know how to explain it," Sam said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"So, what," Rick said, "Jess's killer is just—walking around out there? You know who it is, and you did nothing?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam shook his head.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"My brother and I tracked him down," he said. "That's why I left Stanford."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"You found him?" Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"We killed him."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He forced himself to watch Sam, taking in his every movement, searching for something to give him away.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Why should I believe you," Rick said, "after you killed all those people?"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam looked tired. <em>Good</em>, Rick thought. He should look a lot worse than that.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"That wasn't me," Sam said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Bullshit," Rick said. "Bullshit. You think I'm stupid? I saw you on the news."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I can't explain it," Sam said. "I don't expect you to believe me. But it wasn't me."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Bullshit," Rick said again, meaning more than just this, meaning the whole damn thing.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I think you know it wasn't me," Sam said, "or you wouldn't have let me in your car."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was probably meant to be comforting, but the reminder that the two of them were alone and Rick was within arm's reach of Sam just heightened the sense of danger. Sam could kill him right now.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Where's your brother?" Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Another look of deep grief passed over Sam's face.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"He's dead," Sam said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Good,</em> Rick thought but didn't say. He could sit here with Sam and remember the kind boy who'd had dinner with them, but Dean he only knew from the shooting on the news; it was the only way he could picture him, grinning at the camera, delighted by the idea of slaughter.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>They sat in silence. Rick studied Sam, the slump of his shoulders, the exhaustion written around his eyes. What would Jess have looked like at this age? Not like this—she would never have suffered enough, or done anything as awful as the things Sam had done, to warrant looking so worn down.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"If she'd never met you," Rick said, "she'd still be alive."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I know," Sam said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Rick stared out the windshield into the dark parking lot and watched a few lonely people—blurry through the rain-drenched glass—load their groceries into their trunks, trying to shield their stuff from the downpour.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I was going to ask her to marry me," Sam said after a moment. It was so quiet and choked that Rick almost didn't hear it. "I don't have the ring anymore," Sam said, "but..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam took his wallet out of his jacket pocket and opened it. The picture of Jess that gazed up at Rick took his breath away. <em>My baby girl</em>. The photo in Rick's own wallet was Jess not even five years old yet, her blonde ringlets in pigtails. Sam's photo was Jess in college, but still vibrant and smiling. Still too young. </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She should've gotten to grow up.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam pulled out a folded slip of paper that looked years old, so creased and worn that it was barely holding itself together. He unfolded it.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>
    <em>Missed you! Love you!</em>
  </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Jess's handwriting.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"It's the last thing I have of hers," Sam said. "The last thing she wrote before she..."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He was holding it out to Rick, offering it to him, eyes lowered, voice trembling with grief, and suddenly Rick couldn't do this anymore.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Get out," he said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>Sam looked up at him then with wide eyes.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Sir—"</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Get <em>out</em>," Rick said, his voice breaking, and Sam did, and as soon as Sam shut the door, Rick started his car and drove out of the parking lot. He didn't look in the rearview. He couldn't. Couldn't do anything at all, in fact, and pulled over not even five minutes later to put his head in his hands. He could feel the tears pricking in his eyes and willed them back.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He didn't realize he was calling someone until the phone was at his ear.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"Hello?" Monica said, miles and miles away. She sounded drowsy, like the call had woken her up.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I miss her," Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"I know," Monica said. She was far more awake now—awake enough to have the weight of grief in her tired voice. "I miss her, too."</p>
</div><div>
  <p>"God," Rick said.</p>
</div><div>
  <p>He couldn't say anything else. He wept.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I saw a headcanon from years ago that sam held onto the ring until soulless!sam sold it because he needed cash. i can't remember who came up with it. <a href="https://samdeancas.tumblr.com/post/633580186832699392/do-you-also-sometimes-think-about-how-sam-probably">@samdeancas on tumblr posted about</a> how sam probably still has that note she left him in the pilot episode, how he takes it out and reads it all the time. that absolutely devastating headcanon inspired this fic</p></blockquote></div></div>
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